His Broken Belief
by rawrrkitty
Summary: It's a frightening thing, falling for someone who is like the very embodiment of a storm. And even though he believes, for he always will, the strength of his belief has a limit. (Or, four times Mistoffelees and Tugger nearly kissed and the one time they did.)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I'm having trouble thinking of witty ways to tell y'all that I don't own CATS.

**A/N: Um, hey again. I feel like an idiot because I hate having multiple stories going on at once, but I only feel like writing this at the moment, so... meh. In case you're surprised at my choice of pairing, it's a gift to a friend of mine who's more a Misto/Tugger believer than anything else. :3 I thought I'd give it a go. Try to make something... nice.**

**Regardless, this is only going to be short. It was actually meant to be a oneshot split up into four or five parts, but no, I thought that might wind up a bit long. So I'll post it as four or five different chapters. ;D**

**I hope you likey. 8D**

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><p><strong>His Broken Belief<strong>

_Part I_

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><p>"Oh."<p>

It was but a simple parting of the lips and the release of a gasp. It was wide eyes overflowing with the moon, eyes framed by sweat-sodden fur. He'd done it, he'd done it. Oh Everlasting Cat, he'd done it. Mistoffelees had proved himself, given himself worth, created a name for himself and oh Bast, the Jellicles finally watched him with vague tints of respect in their shining eyes.

That respect _would_ grow if Mistoffelees continued to place his feet carefully as he walked onwards.

The sun had long since risen and the Jellicles, worn and satisfied from the Ball, had for the most part retired to bed. But Mistoffelees was perched atop his pipe, watching the sun make its steady way across the sky, that ball of exhilaration still curled tight in his stomach.

He wasn't sleeping anytime soon, he knew it. Not with all the thoughts jumbling for attention in his head.

He knew for a fact that not _everyone_ was asleep. Victoria had stayed up a while with him, stubbornly blinking her eyes to keep them from closing, tentatively curling her hand around his. That had been nice, sort of. Even if he didn't lose his breath when she touched him anymore.

But now, she was safely in bed, curled up next to her friends. Mistoffelees continued his silent vigil alone. Somewhere in the Junkyard, a drunken yell pierced the air.

Not _all_ the Jellicles thought that it was fun to just nap through the day, evidently. Perhaps the oldest and the youngest Jellicles were content to sleep. Mistoffelees bit his lip, closed his eyes. Through a faint haze of magic, he saw a group of cats slumped around a small clearing in what somewhat resembled a circle, passing around a bottle. He couldn't make out their faces, but through the buzzing of magic in his head, he heard his own name mentioned twice.

_Huh..._

Well, it wasn't like he had anything better to do. Turning his eyes away from the sky, he leapt down from his pipe, blinking away the white dots that danced across the vision, mere memories of the sun's glare.

He found the group with ease. It was difficult _not_ to be able to find them. He could hear their raucous laughter by the simple prick of an ear.

Tugger, Bombalurina, Cassandra and Alonzo were there – not to his surprise. They were the loudest, especially Bombalurina. Her laughter was high and had an almost screechy quality. Demeter and Munkustrap were there too, which was a little bit of a shock to Mistoffelees. He hadn't expected it from the two of them. Demeter was slurring some story – no one was listening – and hiccupping happily. Munkustrap was slumped against a wall, looking as if he'd passed out, though the flicker of his eyelids showed that he was awake and attentive.

Mistoffelees hung back, not quite sure if he should leave or not. That was when he caught hold of his name passed through the conversation again.

"That Mistoffelees," Cassandra was saying, her voice still retaining that silky smooth quality. She barely looked tipsy, but Mistoffelees could see that her movements were a little heavier. "He's really something, y'know?"

"You gotta watch out for him," Demeter argued. "You may think he's your hero now but remember Macavity?" The gold queen reached out and gripped Cassandra's arm alarmingly hard. "Bast, they're the same."

Mistoffelees bristled.

"No," Tugger said gruffly, lifting his head from preening his mane. "C'mon, man, Misto's great. You're... yeah, Demeter, you're jealous, huh?"

She sniffed at this and crawled across to Munkustrap to lean on the Protector's shoulder. "Jealous? Of what?"

"You're fed up with my prissy little brother, aren't you?" Tugger grinned. "I don't blame you, mind you. Really though – Misto's smart, nice, talented and to top it off, _cute_. You _so_ want him, Deme. I swear."

"Don't be stupid," Munkustrap mumbled dully. Demeter patted his shoulder.

"Well, I tell you what, Deme." Tugger's voice had dropped to a whisper. "He's too good for you, that Mistoffelees. He's too good for us all."

They all fell silent. Hand pressed to his mouth, Mistoffelees backed away and ran back to his pipe.

It wasn't long after that he opened his eyes, not quite asleep, to the sound of a small junk pile crashing down. Tugger stumbled out, looking dazed and a little bemused.

"Oh, hey Misto," he said, waving. His eyes weren't quite focused.

"Hey," Mistoffelees said quietly, sitting upright.

"Gotta take a piss," Tugger mumbled, passing the pipe and jumping over a few piles. Minutes later, he returned, seemingly triumphant.

"Any good?" Mistoffelees said drily.

"Oh – oh yeah." Tugger declared this with a wink. And to Mistoffelees' surprise, Tugger hoisted himself up onto the pipe next to him. There wasn't much room for the two of them – they had to press together in order to keep balance.

Mistoffelees turned his head to look at Tugger, blinking up at him. "Er..."

"Hey," Tugger grinned.

"What on earth are you doing, Tugger?"

"Dropping in for a cup of tea." Tugger then giggled – a sound that Mistoffelees was pretty sure would never occur while Tugger was sober. He winced.

They sat in silence for a while, Mistoffelees wishing that Tugger would leave him alone so that he could take a nap. But Tugger stayed, tilting his head back and gazing at the sky, his eyes glazed. Mistoffelees watched him, a little nervous.

"Misto," Tugger said. His voice was quiet. "I've been meaning to ask you something for a while, now."

"Hm?" If it would get the idiot off his pipe, he was certainly welcome to asking one question.

"What do you think of me?"

Mistoffelees hadn't been expecting that one. He felt heat rise to his cheeks, because Bast, Tugger sounded like a queen kit desperately in like with some tom, needy for his approval. "Er..."

"Because you know Deme – she's so honest. She'll never lie about what she thinks. And she doesn't like me." Tugger twitched, shuddered. Mistoffelees felt the vibration pass through the contact they had. "I think she thinks I'm trashy. Superficial. You get me?"

"Well..." Mistoffelees began tentatively. "Yeah, Demeter's honest about her opinions. But... her opinions aren't always... well, right, per say. It's only her perspective. Unless Demeter really matters to you, I wouldn't worry. Everyone else likes you, right?" He ended on a teasing note.

Tugger stayed silent.

"Wait," Mistoffelees said, an awful thought dawning on him. "You don't... you're not... you don't have _feelings_ for Demeter, do you? Bast, she's mated, Tugger! To your brother, no less!"

"Oh! Hell _no_," Tugger sputtered. "She's not my type, man."

Mistoffelees quirked an eyebrow. Tugger sighed and turned to him. Though that mist of alcohol still permeated his eyes, his gaze upon Mistoffelees was sharp, searching. "During the Ball, Misto," he said softly. "You, er... said I was a bore. I mean, I hope I don't bore you or anything..."

Mistoffelees frowned. So this was what it was about? "I wasn't trying to offend you, Tugger," he said patiently.

"I'm not one to get offended. I know you didn't mean it like that." Tugger sighed and bit his lip. He worked it between his teeth, huffing in an irritated fashion. Mistoffelees, for a moment, watched him, absolutely fascinated.

"Um, then how did you mean it?"

"Like... you're really cool, Misto. I've... always been a fan of your magic. You know that." Tugger took hold of Mistoffelees' shoulder so that they were forced to stare at each other. Mistoffelees let out a soft 'ah' of surprise. "I believed in you when no one else would. I trusted you. I wonder... does that matter?"

"Course it matters." By this point, Mistoffelees couldn't quite think straight. Tugger was huge compared to Mistoffelees, looming over in a way that didn't _frighten_ Mistoffelees, but all the same, it frightened him – that flutter in his stomach, that same flutter he felt when he pulled off magic. "It always will, Tugger. Thank you."

"And I've heard all the stories." Tugger's eyes darkened. "They say you're going to turn out just like Macavity. They say... all sorts of things. I still believe in you. I know it's not like that. You... you're a good soul."

Mistoffelees stared. He wasn't breathing. Somewhere in the middle of Tugger's talking, his breathing had hitched and failed to continue.

"Misto, say something," Tugger urged.

Mistoffelees didn't have to. Letting out his breath in one big rush, he wrapped his arms around Tugger's huge frame and sobbed quietly into his mane. Tugger made a hissing sound, surprised. Instinctively, his own arms folded around Mistoffelees.

"No one trusts me." Mistoffelees' voice was muffled. "They think I'm going to go insane. They know something's going to go wrong. I'm just trying... so hard..." He coughed and shuddered. Tugger's arms tightened around him.

"Shh," he said softly.

Finally, Mistoffelees pulled back. His eyes were red round the edges. He laughed nervously, rubbing them to no avail. "I'm sorry, Tugger," he whispered.

"Why should you be?" This was Tugger at the gentlest Mistoffelees had ever seen him, bending to be level with the smaller cat and taking Mistoffelees' paw in both his own. "Nothing's your fault."

It was evident why all the queens loved him so much. Mistoffelees studied the features of Tugger's face – it was perhaps his dark eyes, swirling with some hungry emotion that Mistoffelees loved the most about him. Or the lips, stark red. It was like he was wearing make-up. Or the mane, maybe. Mistoffelees thought vaguely about tangling his hands in that mane, wrapping himself sinuously around Tugger and –

No. What on earth was he thinking? Mistoffelees flinched, thought of Victoria. Victoria, Victoria, sweet Victoria. Her face wouldn't come to mind. Behind his eyelids, all Mistoffelees could see was Tugger, wearing that smirk, hip cocked.

When he opened his eyes, Tugger was _so close, so close_. It was going to happen. He was moving closer by the second.

And then-

"_Tugger_! I can't believe that anyone can take this long to piss." The sharp sound of Bombalurina's voice startled Mistoffelees into tipping off the side of the pipe. Sheepishly, he bounded to his feet and glanced around. He saw Bombalurina step out into their sight and blink.

"Hey, Bombs," Tugger said, lips curling up in a lazy smile.

"Watcha doing?" she asked, curious. Her eyes flickered from Tugger, still sprawled comfortably atop Mistoffelees' pipe, to Mistoffelees himself, wiping dust off his behind.

"Just messing with ya, hey Misto?" Tugger said, grinning down at him. But his eyes were sharp with disappointment. Mistoffelees knew he would look the same – he wasn't even bothering to smile.

"Well, leave the kid alone and come on back," Bombalurina said impatiently. "Alonzo got this brilliant idea – hell, you don't want to miss it."

"Sure," Tugger shrugged. He hopped off the pipe and headed towards Bombalurina. She easily linked his arm with hers. Mistoffelees frowned.

Just before they disappeared round a junk pile, Tugger sent one fleeting look back at Mistoffelees. It sent chills down his spine, that look. _Next time._ Taking in a shuddering breath, Mistoffelees crawled into his pipe and curled into a tight ball, squeezing his eyes shut.

Behind his eyelids, Tugger slunk through his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n: (sorry it's REALLY long)**

**um, hey there, if there's anyone to be saying 'hey there' to. perhaps this calls for a re-introduction: hello, CATS fanfiction archive of 2014. i am rawrrkitty, an ancient writer who left this poor, sad fic here in 2011 and effectively abandoned it. it became a proverbial child lost in a supermarket and i, the blundering, inadequate parent, drove home without it.**

**anyway, lack of closure has always pissed me off, so i'm actually going to finish this. you may ask, what brings this on, oh rawrrkitty?! even if there's no one who cares, let me have my little ramble. i'm entitled. i've just finished school and now that that's done (and that pokémon alpha sapphire is out cough cough) i've been drowning in nostalgia. and in my old fics. and uh, like i said, lack of closure is terrible, me not finishing this story is terrible, and so i'm going to fix that. right now. **

**that being said, most of this was already written – it was just… not good? i was unsatisfied with it even when i wrote it (hence not uploading it) so i basically went through and tried to make it all a little more cohesive, tried to make improvements where i could. which means that the rest of the fic will most likely have a different tone and style from the first chapter, unfortunately. i mean, i was fourteen when i wrote it and i'm nearly eighteen now (practically a whole new person!), so i don't think there's anything i can do about that except rewrite the first chapter, and hey, i'm actually sort of fond of the first chapter.**

**sorry if it's not even that great anyway. i haven't written much over the past three years or so. maybe i've actually gotten worse at the whole writing thing, idk. aaaaaaaaaalso if it's of interest, i do also intend to upload a conclusion for 'better before' and finish 'scars like spiderwebs' although those are going to take me a little longer since i never **_**wrote**_** anything more for them. i'm hoping to get it all done before i turn eighteen – on the 31s**** t of december – which may be an unreasonable goal, but it would be nice. like i'm heading off into the abyss of adulthood and leaving my times in the CATS fandom in the sun. what's with all the shit metaphors? it is 3 am, leave me alone. without further rambling from me, here's the fic. or the second chapter of it. chapters should be out every few days. woo.**

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><p>It was much later that Mistoffelees realised he was wrong about things getting <em>better<em>.

He dreamed after that night. He dreamed of the stars in the sky, starry eyes and red, red lips. He never _quite_ knew what he was doing, but that was beyond the point. He was doing.

He woke up in the middle of the next day, hands splayed on the pristine sheets. His fingers were shaking, clenching the material in tight fists. He pulsed all over, a thunderstorm pounding within a fragile body. He jolted out of bed and threw up into the toilet, head hanging weak over the lip of the bowl. And he still shook.

This had been long coming.

He laid his head on the rim of the toilet for a few weary moments. Started retching and heaving again but nothing came out, or maybe, he wondered, he was choking out his very essence into that toilet. He wiped his face before stumbling back to bed, telling himself that the roiling sensation in his chest would go with some more rest.

Instead, he dreamed of not being able to breathe. Choking and retching and sobbing dry and wheezy.

He'd been a fool to think that the aftermath of conjuring up Deuteronomy would be bearable. Caught up in the silver light of the moon and Tugger crooning those words, those encouraging words beneath which lay faith that Mistoffelees had thought impossible. But the cost of the magic was claiming his body – would eat him from the inside out if he didn't do anything about it. But what _could _he do?

He woke this time to dark-bright eyes. Tugger had invited himself into Mistoffelees' den, apparently. Mistoffelees attempted to comprehend his presence, as well as the fact that he could breathe.

"Heya," Tugger grinned. "Still in bed, huh? And they call _me_ lazy."

Mistoffelees stared, eyes crinkling all round the edges in what appeared to be deep thought. And then – and then he was retching _again_. He beat a fist into his pillow, his face contorted under the strain of the magic. Tugger took two rapid steps back. The noises Mistoffelees were making were wretched, desperate.

"Hurts," he managed to gasp out.

"You're sick," Tugger realised. "Oh Bast, Misto, wait right here."

So Tugger ran out, tripping over the doormat as he went, and Mistoffelees stifled the terrible noises that were wrenching out his throat and thought about breathing. Just breathing, one two one two one two. And then he realised he was breathing too fast, so one two three one two three.

It was hard for Mistoffelees to describe the feeling of being consumed by magic. It didn't attack his body, but it tingled in his mind, a reminder of what he had yet to give. It gnawed on his very soul. And the feeling of knowing he had so much to pay, debts that would never disappear – no, he was in too deep.

Tugged returned alone. The relief was evident on his face when he saw Mistoffelees quiet.

"Uh, I'm back. People are coming. It's okay, Mist."

Mistoffelees kneaded the straw mattress with his claws, stared past Tugger and through the open door behind him. And he said, "No. They can't come."

Tugger was startled. He fidgeted nervously on the spot, fingers twisting in the strands of his mane. "Everything will be okay if you let Jenny and Jelly look at you," he tried.

That was when Mistoffelees snapped. He couldn't help the words that began to flow out of him. "It's won't be okay, Tugger, and Everlasting Cat help you if you think it ever can be. Can't you see it? Can't anyone?" Mistoffelees' voice was still ragged and raw, the scream he ached to release pushed back into his lungs. "How can we just live when we know that we're constantly taking, taking, taking, asking favors from life? Borrowing moments? Helping ourselves to mystics and magic and no, Bast, life's not as kind as we all believe. It doesn't just give and give, Tugger. It takes, too. Leaves us to rot in death and laughs at our foolishness.

"This world exists in a cycle of creation and destruction… so where does my magic fit in? Where do _I_ fit in? If I create miracles, what is destroyed as a result? See, see, creation is unnatural: watch the erosion of the land by the tide, the beautiful red death of a white mouse at the jaws of a predator, the ground bucking and splitting in an earthquake, and anyone, even you, can see that destruction is the voice and soul of nature. What I'm doing is wrong. It is to defy laws that bind this very world, and nature wants to punish me. Look at me suffer, Tugger. Don't I deserve it, after all?"

Mistoffelees was entirely aware of the manic sound to his voice, the strangeness of his words, in a detached sort of way. Tugger stared, all amber eyes – the sunlight slanting across them – and lips a dusty red, hands loose at his sides, hip cocked in that _I'm-such-a__-heartthrob_ manner. Not a sliver of comprehension passed across his face and Mistoffelees resented that; it frustrated him, because could Tugger not see what he was getting at?

"I believe in you, Misto," Tugger said simply, his voice pathetic and small. He fell to his knees at Mistoffelees' bedside, crooking an elbow over the mattress and letting his fingers caress the velvet of Mistoffelees' ear.

Mistoffelees' gaze shifted to Tugger's face, to a cat who lived for love, for loving, a cat who wouldn't understand the fear Mistoffelees was experiencing. Mistoffelees knew no one here would understand. And quite suddenly, the honey-amber of Tugger's eyes was stifling – though none the less charming.

"Misto," Tugger breathed, a near purr.

The proximity, Mistoffelees realised. It was affecting Tugger, just like the other night. He wanted too, he did. But Mistoffelees had little in his mind but aching terror. He couldn't be here anymore, and if he was going to leave, he couldn't leave any broken hearts. He had to go _now_.

Mistoffelees, in a sudden movement, sat up and leant over Tugger. From this perspective, Tugger didn't look quite so big. Mistoffelees' hand shot out, roughly cupped Tugger's cheek. Tugger's breath hitched.

Slowly, Mistoffelees edged out from beneath the covers, knees sinking into the mattress. His other hand snaked out and grasped at Tugger's mane, gripping tight and pulling. Tugger's breaths came shallow and quick.

"Yes, Misto," Tugger urged in a coarse whisper, leaning his head into Mistoffelees' hand.

Mistoffelees stared at Tugger, aching. Just aching. He inched forward, pressed his forehead against Tugger's. Tugger was warm, the sort of warmth that accompanied the gentle sunlight in spring. And as Mistoffelees' lips brushed over the bridge of Tugger's nose, he imagined himself, middle finger raised to magic. _I'll beat you. Even at the cost of this wrenching desire._

_Here we go._

Mistoffelees looked to the ceiling, said "Look at me" to no one in particular and shoved Tugger to the floor in a bundle of mane and shattered pride. Mistoffelees grunted as he leapt over Tugger and plunged out the door, knocking aside the healers that were about to enter his house.

Already, he felt a little lighter.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a whole lot of difference between living at the Junkyard and living, well, _nowhere_. Mistoffelees had known that, of course. And now he got to experience it in full. Strays everywhere, creeping after him with their eyes, so fascinated by the way his fur gleamed clean. The dirt collecting between his claws. The noise, the silence too.

The magic never let up. Neither did Macavity.

Of course his father wanted him. "You'll be an asset," Macavity had said softly from the dark shadows he so liked to navigate. "You'll be so strong, just like me."

But every time Mistoffelees considered nodding, Tugger's eyes, so _soft_, came to his head and he would feel vaguely sick and turn his cheek.

Now, Mistoffelees wandered aimlessly about the outskirts of the Junkyard. He saw Alonzo, perched on his usual junkpile and keeping a half-hearted watch on the place with lidded eyes. He heard an echo of Etcetera's laughter and almost thought he smelt the familiar scent of Jennyanydots' favourite roasted pigeon dinner.

He wasn't a part of it, he knew that. And he was free.

The call of some haggard bird mocked him and he batted half-heartedly at it as it swooped down low above him, flapping its greying wings in his face.

He walked on and tried not to think about what might have been if he had been strong in another way. Strong enough to, perhaps, refuse the aching claw of the magic. It had been done before, after all.

It was outside a pub that he found himself pausing. Behind it, he heard the raucous laughter of a drunk cat, shortly followed by a groan.

"Get me out of this place," the drunk cat mumbled, just loud enough for Mistoffelees to catch it. And then he knew, knew exactly what the magic required of him. Wasn't it easy enough? If magic was to create life and miracles where there were none, then surely appeasing it was the opposite?

So he took his first life and the pressure eased; he felt light, with the wind, wondering if within the cold glittering of the night sky there was a single star that could promise him salvation.

(x)

Time passed, and a lot of it, although Mistoffelees had no way to measure it. Everyone gave up on him. Macavity, for sure, and the Jellicles too, judging by the gossip he heard when he gave in to temptation and crept about the Junkyard, an invader, an unwelcome ghost. He never saw Tugger there, but he didn't think he'd be able to bear it anyway.

Not with his hands stained, not like this. Not now that he would so willingly sacrifice life in order to prolong his worthless existence. There _had_ to be a way out of this, but if there was, Mistoffelees couldn't see it. Couldn't see himself ever being welcomed back to the Junkyard with open arms.

Even so, he went there on the night of the Jellicle Ball, exactly a year after he performed a trick which should've been impossible by the standards of most magicians. The trick that cost his very soul.

(x)

Tugger remembered thinking that Mistoffelees just needed some space. That the fact that he didn't return to the Junkyard that night was just because he needed alone time. Tugger would've been okay with that. Magic cats like Mistoffelees often had a hard time, so it was nothing unusual.

But a few more days passed and Mistoffelees did not return, to the bafflement of the Jellicles. They knew that Mistoffelees could take care of himself, but it wasn't like him to be away for so long. _Magic cat business,_ they assumed. They left it at that. But Tugger fretted; what if he'd been too forward in his advances? What if he'd upset Mistoffelees?

A week after Mistoffelees' disappearance and that was when Munkustrap declared the first search party.

A month afterwards and Munkustrap was forced to call the search parties off. But Tugger did not stop looking. Something had really been bothering Mistoffelees the day he disappeared. Mistoffelees had perhaps known something about... something. It made Tugger feel sick, not knowing.

And further months passed without so much as a glimpse of Mistoffelees. But sometimes, Tugger just felt... he knew that Mistoffelees was not gone. He knew it. It didn't stop him from inviting himself into Bombalurina's den night after night. Great Bast, he needed some sort of relief.

Deuteronomy arranged a "funeral" for Mistoffelees four months after his disappearance. The Jellicles had accepted it by then; Mistoffelees was gone for good. It made them uneasy. Losing a magic cat was a serious thing.

Tugger had disapproved of the funeral. There was no body to bury, no concrete proof. They'd had to restrain him. Munkustrap had had to grimly knock him out, drag him aside. Tugger didn't remember the details of that day, but Munkustrap had told him that it was him yelling something like, "Fuck you, Dad, this is fucking pathetic," that had warranted him the rough treatment.

Tugger didn't think he'd been unreasonable at all, but the Jellicles had given up, as they were always so prone to do when it concerned magic cats. But Tugger had no idea what to do. There was no point in looking when Mistoffelees could so easily conceal himself, and probably would if the failed search parties were any indication. All he could do was wait. Have faith.

And that was that. He just had to act as if waiting wasn't tearing him apart. A few weeks before the Jellicle Ball, Tugger drank enough that he was flat on his back and snoring without having to bother thinking about what had happened. The following morning, Bombalurina ripped back the curtains and chastised him as he blinked blearily at her. But it was worth the sleep.

He managed to go on a few weeks, not thinking. Turn on his brain and he'd be driven mad. No, he just continued about his normal Tugger business, expression perhaps a little more slack than usual.

And then... and then came the ball.

Munkustrap had been utterly beside himself thinking of anti-Macavity devices. Demeter had reassured him gently. She'd said she was the best anti-Macavity device they had. It seemed she was over the trauma she'd used to feel even hearing his name.

There were the customary introductory songs. Tugger danced and sang his way through them mechanically. He wondered whose song he'd interrupt this year. Three songs in, Demeter stiffened. Tugger knew exactly what she was about to say.

"_Macavity_!"

The kittens scattered. The older cats stood tall, glaring into the shadows. There was a booming laugh. Tugger caught a glimpse of red. And then Demeter relaxed and they continued.

Another ten songs passed and it seemed that the Jellicles were home-free. They should've known better.

It began with the crash of a junkpile tumbling to the ground. "Show yourself!" Munkustrap screeched. The adults formed a circle around the kittens. Nothing happened, but Demeter remained tense, stalking her way about the clearing with her fur on end. Then, there he was, that ever familiar lean, red figure. Inconceivably, he had one of the kittens by the throat, a threatening claw poised against the soft silk of the fur on her neck.

"_No_!" came the ragged cry from Munkustrap, helpless to act when Macavity was making his intentions so very clear. Macavity would murder the kitten if they so much as moved. Tugger trembled.

Then, out of nowhere, a flash of black and white. Another lean figure, smaller and more lithe than Macavity, was at his side. Even Macavity seemed surprised by this, Tugger noted in the back of his mind, but the reaction of the Jellicles was a collective, outraged gasp. They'd already made their assumptions.

"Why don't you let me handle this?" Mistoffelees said in a cold voice. "Take a break from the Ball this year – let me in on the fun?"

"I thought-" Macavity began, his words tense with suspicion.

"You know what I am," Mistoffelees said simply, and Macavity's answering smile was cruel. But he disappeared, and Mistoffelees caught the kitten easily, wrapping an arm around her neck, his bony forearm pressing against it in a warning just as clear as Macavity's claw.

"_Traitor_!" Demeter screamed, and Tugger wondered if he should be saying it too. It seemed clear enough. But all Tugger could think of was how skinny Mistoffelees had become, how all the laughter that had always been in his eyes had faded away. He cut a terrifying figure in the light of the Jellicle Moon, black as his shadow. The cries of the Jellicles went up, but they weren't "_MACAVITY!_", they were "_Mistoffelees?", _some sobbing the name, some whispering it. Mistoffelees himself tilted his head at them, face carefully blank.

"Already making assumptions, huh?" Mistoffelees murmured. "No wonder it's always been so difficult for me."

"Let her go," Munkustrap snarled. "She's just a kitten!"

"I knew it," Demeter said shakily, before Mistoffelees could even reply. "I knew it." She inhaled sharply. "Where's Macavity? Where did he go? What is he planning?"

"You should know," the tuxedo cat said softly. He sighed, fiddled briefly with the kitten's velvety ears, then let her run right back into the circle of Jellicles.

They broke out into madness the moment the kitten was safe. "_Traitor! Traitor!"_

But then Demeter was screaming and Macavity was dragging Deuteronomy away, just like old times. Tugger, perhaps, was the only one that saw the broken horror on Mistoffelees' face. Everyone else saw a traitor, a cat who could surely only be Macavity's accomplice.

"_You_-!" Munkustrap hissed, and then everyone was surging past Tugger, who simply fell to his knees, unable to make sense of any of this.

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees said, his voice reaching Tugger even through the outraged screaming of the Jellicles. "But there's no chance of a _presto_ this year."

Then he was gone from the Junkyard, and so was Tugger.

"Let me go," Tugger said, though his demand was half-hearted. Certainly, he was in a bad situation. There wasn't a sign of Macavity. Nor was there a sign of the Jellicles. He was in some unfamiliar area of the city, pressed back against a filthy brick wall. Before him stood Mistoffelees.

He'd grown. Tugger couldn't help but notice that. He was far taller – skinnier, too. His eyes, eyes that had once been so pretty, were... Tugger had no words for them. Wretched. Appalling. Swirling and sparking with a terrible magic. And yet, he was still as tempting as he'd been before. It was sickening, really, Tugger tried to tell himself. Like wanting to kiss Macavity.

"I shouldn't do this, but you looked so pathetic so… I'll admit it. I did miss you, you know. I still do, even now," Mistoffelees said, more serious than Tugger had ever heard him. "I didn't think I'd ever stop dreaming of you. I did, though. No fault of yours. The magic overtook my every thought – including my dreams. I find it hard to think of anything but this desire to be rid of the magic."

"What do you mean?" Tugger said slowly.

Mistoffelees closed his eyes. "It's not as fun as it might sound, being a magic cat. I wasn't really in my right mind when I tried to explain this earlier, so let me try again. Magic demands... a payment. Magic is life. To harness such power, I must offer life in return. So... I have no choice but to kill. You Jellicles might think that Macavity and I are awful. And I agree. I _am_ awful. But do I have a choice? No."

That was when Tugger lost any and all restraint. He pulled Mistoffelees into a hug.

"That's enough," Mistoffelees protested unhappily. Tugger let go.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Mistoffelees rolled his eyes. "I just thought you might like to know. Now, you know, you go ahead and hate me. That's really what you need to do."

There was a pause. A pause that Tugger was very scared to break – what if his words weren't the right words to fill it? What if his words, his dumb, dumb words, murdered the silence, murdered any chance of Mistoffelees staying?

And then Mistoffelees was leaning in, eyes lidded slightly. "I didn't want to leave you, Tugger. I didn't."

Tugger's breath caught. "Then kiss me. Now."

A look of great pain came across Mistoffelees' face. "I can't do that."

"Fuck you, then," Tugger snapped, turning away. He folded his arms, well aware that he looked like an utter brat. And then he waited. Mistoffelees stayed silent.

"It's for your own good," he offered after a while. "Not kissing you, that is. If I kiss you, there's no taking it back."

"No shit. Do I look like I care about the consequences?"

"Even if you don't care, I care."

A silence.

"I still believe in you, even now." That was Tugger, done with his tantrum. He turned back to Mistoffelees, eyes soft. "You've... killed, if I'm to believe what you told me, and I can't see why you'd lie about that. But I can't help but trust you still, even though you've gone against everything I thought you were."

"That's not good," Mistoffelees said wryly.

"And I can't help but wonder... does it mean something?"

More silence. Mistoffelees' fingers clenched and unclenched.

"Mistoffelees, I need to ask you something. When you disappeared from the Junkyard tonight... why did you bring me?"

Tugger had expected some sort of sarcastic response, but Mistoffelees stayed very quiet. Tugger's eyes narrowed when he noticed how tightly Mistoffelees hands were balling into fists. And then he looked up.

"Oh no. Oh no." Tugger stepped forward and pulled Mistoffelees into his arms again. "You're crying."

Mistoffelees shoved him immediately. "Shut up!"

"No! I won't shut up! You need me. That's why you brought me along." Tugger enthusiastically went back in for another hug.

"Don't you dare try to make this a fucking sappy romance story," Mistoffelees snarled, shoving Tugger again.

"Admit it," Tugger said. "You just want someone to talk to."

Mistoffelees bristled. And then, cautiously, he inched back into Tugger's arms. Buried his face in Tugger's mane.

"Yeah," he said, voice a little mocking. "Sometimes it's nice to get away from the criminal mastermind and the thugs on the streets and talk to someone a little less _sharp_."

Ignoring the jab, Tugger took the opportunity to enjoy the feeling of Mistoffelees pressed against him. Who knew if this would ever happen again? And despite the fact that Mistoffelees was definitely _different_, Tugger was content.

He tried to tell himself that he should push Mistoffelees away – he was evil, he was mad, a killer – and run. But he never did. Mistoffelees lifted his head, stared straight at Tugger with his tortured eyes.

And Tugger couldn't help it. He kissed him. Or tried, at least. He couldn't tell if Mistoffelees kissed him back before he disappeared.

_Damned magic._

* * *

><p><strong>an: **horizontal line-breaks aren't working out too well for me. anyhow, this chapter was a difficult one to wrangle into what it is now. most of it is old writing... oh well. i'm not entirely satisfied, but i'm just going to post it and move on to other things.


	4. Chapter 4

Tugger didn't return to the Junkyard. He didn't know if there was anything left for him there. He knew that they wouldn't understand his belief in Mistoffelees. No, they hated him for certain now. And Tugger did not hate Mistoffelees in the slightest.

So he wandered the streets half-drunk, slipping just barely away from screeching tires and slobbering dogs. But he couldn't hunt. Not with so much competition for food. Within weeks, his ribs were clear beneath his ragged fur.

And when he was flat on his back on some anonymous street, his eyelids twitching and his eyes misty, dragging in air and wheezing it out, Mistoffelees did come. Tugger smirked when he saw the familiar tuxedo figure looming over him.

"There you are," he said.

"You look like shit," Mistoffelees said bluntly. "You're an idiot, you know?"

"You wound me," Tugger said. He felt dizzy.

Mistoffelees bent down. "It's too late for us, you know," he said. He didn't sound remotely upset. Tugger wanted to scream at him. Not too late. Never too late.

"That's okay," he said instead. "I'll find some attractive queen to live the rest of my life with."

"You go do that," Mistoffelees said, awfully condescending.

"You can too," Tugger urged.

"No, I can't."

"A tom."

"Don't be stupid."

"Stupidity comes with the job, my dear," Tugger murmured, eyes slipping shut.

"Job?"

"Being a heartthrob, you know?"

Mistoffelees chuckled.

"Well, Tugger, I wish you well. Wherever you hope to go."

"Yes, you too."

"Okay then. Bye."

Tugger smiled. Mistoffelees stood up again, looked down at Tugger for another minute. Tugger's eyelids fluttered a little and his mouth fell slack. It was then, looking down upon the tom he'd wanted for a full year, that Mistoffelees relented. He fell to his knees, pulled Tugger up, kissed him, kissed him, kissed him. Wondered why Tugger wasn't kissing back.

They'd never win. And before Tugger's blind eyes, Mistoffelees fell to his knees and screamed.

Screamed, screamed, screamed himself _awake_.

It was no ordinary dream. Not with the way his head was pounding, claws gouging the fleabitten blankets he was wrapped in as sparks of magic faded from the skins of his eyes. This had never happened to him before, but he knew what it meant. It was a shadow of the future presenting itself to him.

Tugger would die, and all because of him.

* * *

><p>Mistoffelees went back to the Junkyard, breaking all of the promises he'd made to himself again. He had to know where Tugger was, if he was safe or if he was already dead.<p>

He could've cried in relief when he found the tom he was looking for curled up in his den, face tucked behind an arm. He didn't look too well, Mistoffelees noted. His fur was rumpled and unwashed, the den itself stinking of alcohol. He hadn't left the Junkyard, but if things kept going this way, it was an inevitability. Mistoffelees couldn't help but curse under his breath. How was he to fix this when all he was capable of doing these days was breaking things?

Tugger stirred and Mistoffelees was helpless, frozen in place, as Tugger moved his arm away from his face and looked straight into Mistoffelees' eyes.

"So you're back," he said simply.

"Don't leave the Junkyard," Mistoffelees said, voice terse. "Stay here, where it's safe."

"What does that even _mean_, Misto? And why do you think I want to leave?" Tugger laughed dully, but the laugh quickly turned into a cough. It was about a minute before he was fit to speak again. "It's not like everyone's pissing me off with all their accusations about you. And I totally enjoy being told I'm wrong, and no one believing me, when I say that you're still good at the core." Tugger hauled himself to his feet. "They won't come near me, because I'm a _Mistoffelees sympathiser_. What the fuck? How did they all become so prejudiced, so wrong, these people I love?"

"They're not wrong," Mistoffelees said, his voice little more than a breath. Tugger, meanwhile, didn't stop in his advance. "Believe them, please. I've become a monster."

Tugger was right in front of Mistoffelees now, and wasn't this becoming all-too-familiar, the warmth of Tugger's body and his honeyed gaze so close that Mistoffelees could see all the flecks of brown and yellow through his eyes? Tugger's hand rose, trembling, to hover by Mistoffelees' cheek. "I'm sorry," Tugger whispered. "But you just don't look like a monster to me. If there's one time I can choose to be right about my feelings, it's this. _Bast_, please. I don't even know, but I think I love you."

Mistoffelees flinched, feeling as though Tugger's words were punching into him. His eyelids shivered, but he couldn't break his gaze away from Tugger's, couldn't break this connection, not now. He was shaking all over, his thoughts simultaneously all over the place and flowing towards a simple conclusion.

_Why didn't I realise it before?_ Mistoffelees thought wonderingly. _Love _is _destruction. It's the breaking apart of the alignment of all the pieces of me into a whole new shape, a shape that fits into you. Love is,_

"I'm sorry," Mistoffelees whispered,

_it is disposing of my foolish pride as I admit to you all my sins and realise that you're still waiting for me, even now_..

"Forgive me. Please…" He stepped into Tugger's arms and it was natural. He was intrinsically aware of the slow beating of his own heart, calm only in the way it could be after he killed. The magic was satisfied, satisfied with this, and was he an _idiot_?

"Nothing to forgive," Tugger breathed, resting his cheek on the top of Mistoffelees' head.

"Are you sure about this?" Mistoffelees asked, unable to help himself, though he still tucked himself closer to Tugger. "The Jellicles won't ever want me back, and-"

"I don't give a fuck," Tugger said. "Stop talking about them. We're going to make a new life away from all of this. I know what you want to say, that it's not that easy at all. True, but what else do we have left for us? We can… I don't know. Salvage whatever we can, scrape together a little home. It'll be enough, right?"

"You'd… leave the Jellicles to be with me?"

"I've been thinking about it all the time," Tugger said simply.

And after that, it was only right for Mistoffelees to tilt his head back and finally, _finally_, kiss Tugger properly. Tugger's lips were full and moist, moving gently, reverently over Mistoffelees' own lips. It was unexpectedly sweet, especially from the usually lustful tom, and Mistoffelees was overwhelmed with warmth.

Perhaps Mistoffelees was caught up in Tugger's optimism, but he was more than ready to try out this new life that Tugger had so easily proposed.

* * *

><p><strong>an: so, originally i ended the fic with tugger dying because i was super into writing bad endings at that stage of my life. but i'm basically a GIANT SAP these days so i wrote an ending full of cheese. first half is entirely from 2011, last half is all new (and all 3am incoherent blather! yay!) – so it's not exactly the most cohesive or fluid of my stories, but ah well. i'm basically putting all my fic writing time into 'scars like spiderwebs' right now.**

**hope you enjoyed this little fic! **


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